28 Bad Decisions
by SpeedBurn
Summary: New Years Eve can be considered the worst night for American law enforcement, right next to the Fourth of July, and Miami's just about to find out what worst really means. (NOT 'ship - Sam)
1. Endings (prologue)

Chapter Title: Endings (prologue)

Author: Sam

Story: Bad Decisions: 00 of 08

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 28

Rating: M: DEATH and violence: this involves a severe car accident and the consequences of drunk driving!

Summary: New Years Eve can be considered the worst night for American law enforcement, right next to the Fourth of July, and Miami's just about to find out what _worst_ really means.

Spoiler: Yeah, seasons 1 – 4 of _CSI: Miami_.

Category: Crime-related; Angst; AU

Setting: AU: _SpeedBurn_: December 31, 2005 – January 2006: Miami

Disclaimer: _CSI: Miami_ was created by Ann Donahue, Carol Mendelsohn, and Anthony E. Zuiker and produced by Alliance Atlantis Communications (2002-2007), The American Travelers, CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), CBS Productions (2002-2006), CBS Television Studios (2009-2012), Jerry Bruckheimer Television, and Touchstone Television (pilot only). I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership of these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story, and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this and it is just for my entertainment and that of free entertainment to a select group. Thank you.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Note: In the _SpeedBurn_ timeline series significant changes occur in various episodes, marking differences in each series. The initial drastically changed episodes are in chronological order: "Bait" (_Without a Trace_), "Reveille" (_NCIS_), "Lost Son" (_CSI: Miami_), "Bodies in Motion" (_Crime Scene Investigation_), "Summer in the City" (_CSI: NY_), and "In Name and Blood (In Birth and Death)" (_Criminal Minds_). Many episodes after those changed are also different. This story is number 28 in the grand scheme. Thank you.

Feedback: Yes, please, especially constructive.

xxx

Saturday Night, December 31, 2005: Miami:

Laughter, lively chatter, and festive music mixed into a joyous cacophony as the party blurred out the sounds of the television reporter '_live from Times Square_.' Colorful costumes blended as party guests moved among each other, dressed for a night of revelry ringing in the New Year with good friends and good food. No one begrudged the comings and goings of people stopping by to say '_hello_' then leaving to go to another party, though mild protests accompanied those who did choose to move on. The front door was barely visible amid the revelers, but those closest finally gave up on persuading the latest guests from leaving. A laughing, friendly baritone could barely be heard as a man said, "I'll drive them home and be right back. She can come get her car tomorrow or have it towed."

"Can I come too, Daddy?" the plaintive note of a pre-adolescent boy drew little attention from the main gathering. This party had many children guests; it was a strictly alcohol-free costume party for families hosted by a beloved local doctor and her family.

The man, dressed as a rather suave Dracula, laughed and rested a dark-skinned hand on the head of the gaudily dressed clown. "Not this time, Sport. I need you to host this party while I play chauffer. Keep an eye on your mom and sister for me."

A woman facing the door, dressed in an iconic pink belly-dancer costume complete with small hat and half-veil, reached over and pulled the boy back against her scantily clad body. Her long black hair swished over her buttocks, even up in the traditional top-knot ponytail. She reached out a smooth, dark-skinned hand to lie on her husband's tuxedo sleeve. "Hurry back, Baby. Be safe."

With a laugh, he captured her hand and brought it to his lips. His warm chocolate eyes steady on her. Kissing her hand, he flipped it to expose her wrist and placed his lips gently on the smooth skin there. "I vill hurry as qvickly as possible," he said in an over-emphasized Bela Lagosi accent, wrecking the image by adding, "Doll."

Her musical laughter drew answering smiles from the closest guests. Her face was blocked from view as she stood with her back to the room, but no one could doubt her joy and love, especially the man who held her hand.

Slowly, the man dropped his wife's hand and called loudly, "Till we meet again, my friends! C'mon, Cap'n! Yer longboat awaits!" He winked at his wife.

A blue-eyed boy dressed as a pirate captain, complete with grand plumed hat and eye patch, ran past the man towards the blue station wagon in the driveway, his pale skin limned briefly in the streetlight. He carried a plastic broadsword, a plastic knife buckled to his waist, and swung a small gaily decorated gift bag in his eager grasp.

Following closely behind, laughing and fighting a yawn, a little girl dressed in sparkling long dress and fairy wings followed the pirate. A twinkling tiara glittered in her long red-blonde curls, bouncing with each skipping step. The girl, too, carried a small gift bag, received at the party. She listened attentively as the boy went off into a wild story of how pirates might have celebrated the changing of the year, blue eyes avidly following his every movement.

Bringing up the rear was a petite woman dressed in a long, slimming silver-white dress and silver heels, her long black hair gathered carefully over one arm to prevent tripping. For those in the know, she portrayed Crystal Gayle, complete with floor-length wig, which she left in place as she climbed into the front passenger seat. She turned and waved out the window. "Thanks for inviting us," she called in a light, almost girlish voice. The woman turned to make sure the children were belted properly into their seats; the little girl was still small enough to require a booster seat which the older boy helped her with.

Turning back to smile at his wife and son once more, the man murmured, "You know I love you three." He touched his wife's cheek, running his finger lightly down the soft skin and skirting the edge of her veil. Those behind her watched her hair swing over her shapely curves, the hair-extensions blending seamlessly with her natural locks, as she leaned into the caress. He continued, "I'll be back before the ball drops, Doll."

"You do that, Baby," she replied, her smile evident in her voice as she watched her husband get into the car and buckle up. As he drove away, a little girl's voice from the crowd called "hey! Where's Daddy going?"

Without turning, the woman called back on a sigh, "to drive Suzie and the kids back home. Her car broke down, Baby." She reached out and shut the door on the lukewarm Miami night and added, "I'll let you both stay up for the ball drop if you promise to go to bed right after the kissing."

"Kissing?" the little boy groaned in disgust. "Who wants to waste time kissing?"

The woman laughed back. "Kissing those you love isn't a waste of time, Baby. It's a gift to enjoy."

"If you say so, Mommy."

xxx

In the back of the station wagon, one excited, tired little boy began yet another story about some foreign tradition for the New Year. He mentioned dragons, eliciting a thrilled gasp from the little girl followed by a giggle and a soft, "real dragons?"

From the front seat the woman, still in her wig and savoring the party atmosphere as long as possible, called back cheerfully, "Wow! They must take a lot of feeding. Can you imagine cleaning up after a dragon?"

The driver joined the laughter.

He pulled the car onto South Miami Avenue behind another, lighter, blue station wagon. Traffic seemed heavy that close to the year change; a purple compact car pulled in behind the station wagon.

"Jeffrey," the bewigged Suzie glanced behind nervously, her little-girl voice hitching in worry. "Maybe we should pull over and let the traffic lighten? New Year's is pretty big on drunk driving."

With a small nod, Jeffrey reached up and loosened the collar of his Dracula cape. "That's why I chose this route. It's a little longer but out of the main flow. Not many people come down here at night."

A flash of light from behind signaled someone wanted to pass. The little boy glanced out the window and breathed "cool," as a motorcycle with two people passed them. The small vehicle went at a reasonable speed but was soon ahead of them, apparently looking for an opening to pass the other station wagon as well.

"When I grow up, I'm gonna get a motorcycle," the boy announced in a very assured tone.

Suzie laughed. "You are, are you? Will you give me a ride on it?"

"Sure will," he called back.

"Look to the right, kids," added Jeffrey. "The Science Museum is going to pass soon. It's still got its holiday light show on."

"Whoa!" The boy turned to look, excitement radiating through his body.

Glancing back with a fond smile, Suzie noted the little girl had drifted into a peaceful slumber. The happy woman grinned wider as she noticed the boy covering an inadvertent yawn. "Looks like you might miss the ball drop, kiddo," she said with a wink.

He shook his head, catching his hat as it started to slip. "Nah. Dad'll let me stay up."

Laughing, Jeffrey shook his head. "But I . . ." He was cut off by the loud, deep honking of a tractor-trailer.

"What the hell!" Jeffrey gripped the wheel firmly, ready to avoid the huge passing vehicle. He shouldn't have worried about that: the strike, when it came, was from the rear.

The station wagon careened off to the right, into the beautiful stone wall that lined the almost deserted street. A speeding black blur slammed its way through to the other station wagon and past then continued on, unheeding anything or anyone that got in its way. The other family car also hit the wall, its car lights shining on the festively lit sign of the Miami Science Museum a few hundred yards in front of it.

Quiet settled over the scene broken immediately by a demanding woman's voice calling into the darkness. "Hello, this is _On-Star_. We see your car has been in a front-end collision. Do you need help?"

A second voice filled the air, as if in response from a great distance: a woman screaming, drawing breath, then screaming once more, over and over. Panic rose in her tones with each ear-piercing, wordless call.

In the lead station wagon, a small blonde girl gingerly pressed the safety release on her seatbelt then cried out in a sudden rush of pain. She called, "Mommy?" but got no answer, except for the screaming of the woman and the persistent operator. Crawling slowly over the coffee holder between the front seats, the little girl slid into the front passenger seat. She looked up at the steady bright light from the console above her head. "Help us! We hit the museum," she answered the operator's frantic questions.

Immediately, the operator replied, "we're sending help. Talk to me, honey. What's your name?"

The girl shifted, pain lacerating her middle, and she passed out, her head hitting the dashboard. As her body slumped, she inadvertently hit the radio button, the volume increasing.

As the traditional song marking endings and beginnings played out a male's voice shook through the air. "Breaker one-nine, breaker one-nine, we have a pile-up on South Miami Avenue." His voice broke as he added, "there are casualties. I swear they're dead!"

From the lofty height of the eighteen-wheeler, it became evident that a pick-up truck and a compact car had crashed with the Mack Truck. A fourth, unidentifiable vehicle had been caught in the middle of the mess, crushed under and between the others, with two station wagons crumpled against the museum ground's wall. The trucker was certain he'd run over a small car in the chaos. His hands shook as much as his voice as he continued to call for help over his CB radio and listen to the near-panicked voice of a woman from below calling for someone to answer her.

Behind the semi, someone dialed on a cell phone, the electronic beeps discordant with the waning bars of the holiday song from a lone radio. "We'll share a cup of kindness yet and drink to _auld lang syne_."

Cheerfully, Regis Philbin's voice rang out over the scene of the accident. "Happy New Year, everybody!"

xxx

Continued in Chapter One: On Call to Hell

xxx

This is being attached to all first chapters of my _CSI: Miami_ stories as it is imperative for the timeline!

On someone's recommendation I just watched Season 8, Episode 1 of _CSI: Miami_. I was horrified to see the discrepancies as compared to the original season and character biographies released in 2002. These discrepancies mainly revolve around Speed and when everyone came to or left the CSI lab. Thus, here is the original timeline as released in 2002 between Season 1, the biographies by the network, and Rory Cochrane's personal website, incorporating what I can of Season 8:

1991: Speed's best friend from high school (unnamed) receives a severe spinal injury during the senior class trip. Speed goes to medical college as a result (to try to heal him).

1993: Speed's best friend dies in surgery while Speed is in the second year of medical college with a double major (meaning four years of classes in two years). Speed drops out and disappears right after the funeral. He is not seen or found for a year.

1994: Speed turns up in Miami, living with the uncle of his deceased best friend. The uncle is a CSI from Miami's crime lab, under the supervision of Megan (Donner – no mention if she is actually married at this time). While bored, Speed visits the crime lab with his host and falls in love with the work. He applies for a job. Megan tells him to finish college and she'll hire him as a tech. He goes back to college.

1995: Speed graduates with a double major (meaning he finished four years of college in one year). He applies and is hired. In six months (supposed to be the quickest of any tech in Miami), he is made an investigator. This is without becoming a police officer at all. Horatio leaves the bomb squad and transfers to the Crime Lab. He is working under Megan. Rick Stetler also joins the crime lab (from homicide?). Both are trained by Speed as CSI's.

*September 1996: (**My additions**) Megan takes a temporary academy teaching position, leaving the Lab in the hands of her team: Speed, Horatio, Stetler, and various non-science related officers like John Sullivan. Speed goes to the St. Petersburg Police Academy (6 months, then a 6 month stint in St. Petersburg on the beat for experience). Shortly after these two leave, Jessie Cordoza arrives for a one year assignment before going to California.

September 1997: Flashbacks of "Out of Time" (_CSI: Miami_, Season 8, Episode 1) occur.

*September 1997: (**My additions**) Calleigh transfers from Louisiana to cover for Cordoza while they find a replacement. Within a few months, she is replaced so goes back to Louisiana. Speed returns from St. Petersburg.

*October 1997: (**My additions**): Megan returns from teaching and takes over the lab supervision once more.

2002: David Caruso states he is pleased that the CSI characters 'working for him' are all police officers (thus my addition of when Speed may have gone to the academy).

March 2002: Megan's husband Shawn Donner is killed in the line of duty. Megan is offered two weeks bereavement leave. She takes six months instead. The supervisor job opens, but Speed refuses to apply for it, content at his own rank. Horatio and Rick compete for the job and Horatio gets it. Rick transfers from the lab to IAB in order to get a promotion, but remains angry and resentful of Horatio. Horatio immediately hires Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne, handpicked CSI's. (Delko nearly made it to the Olympics as a swimmer and Calleigh was known as Bullet Girl in Louisiana at the time.)

May 9, 2002: "Cross Jurisdictions" (_CSI: Miami_ and _CSI_ crossover episode).

September 23, 2002: "Golden Parachute" (_CSI: Miami_ pilot episode). Megan returns to the team as assistant supervisor. Eric expresses his anger for her attitude and Speed explains the loss of Megan's husband. (This denotes Eric did not know Megan or her history.) Also note that Megan relies heavily on Speed out of habit and unfamiliarity with Delko and Calleigh. She gives Speed double and triple amounts of work, which Horatio at times counters.

September 19, 2004: "Lost Son" (CSI: Miami episode). Speed is given full honors during the funeral, including an American flag and gun salute (denoting he is a cop).

Megan is only present for the first ten episodes. She leaves the series by the 11th episode. The character is said to have retired due to Post Traumatic Stress related to her husband's death. The actress is said to have left due to professional differences with David Caruso. My opinion differs about this for the following reason:

Speed and Megan are said to be very close friends, however the only voluntary contact Speed makes with her is during "Golden Parachute" when he sympathizes with her loss of Shawn. After that, he will not come physically close to her: stepping away if she approaches, hugging himself in an unconscious self-protective gesture, and moving so that at least one person or piece of equipment is between them whenever he is able. I think the professional differences were between _Rory Cochrane_ and Kim Delaney.

Season 8, Episode 1 discrepancies: 1997: Calleigh transfers to Miami Crime Lab, which is "a closet". Horatio encourages Eric to become a cop then join the lab. Jesse Cordoza recommends "Speedle, a great guy up in St. Pete's (St. Petersburg, Florida, implying Speed is a cop.)". Horatio is also made head of the new crime lab, and Megan is mentioned as being in the field, but implied to be working for Horatio.

As you can see, these are major changes. My stories, especially in the _SpeedBurn_ timeline are based on the original information released and not on the discrepancies in Season 8, though I have made adjustments which incorporate almost all Season 8 changes. Merrianna follows my lead on this, as well.

Thank you,

Sam


	2. On Call to Hell

Chapter Title: On Call to Hell

Author: Sam

Story: Bad Decisions: 01 of 08

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 28

Setting: Sunday, just past midnight, January 1, 2006: Miami

xxx

Three cars and a pickup truck pulled up to the chaos of the multiple vehicle accident. All four had temporary emergency lights placed in their front windows, their lights flashing to warn traffic. Turning the flashing to steady headlights, adding more luminescence to the early morning scene, all four drivers quickly approached the mayhem.

Alexx's steps faltered at the mass of destruction, wondering if anyone could have lived through some of what she'd already seen. "Oh hell," she whispered. Her black ponytail extensions swished with her head shake, the pink half-veil pushed back so as not to block her vision. She hadn't had time to change.

Officer Frank Tripp was also arrayed in costume, dressed as a cowboy, complete with ten-gallon hat which he pushed back in true Texas country fashion. "Hell is right," he muttered, surveying the scene, mouth slightly open. Silently he sent a prayer of thanksgiving that his three kids were safely ensconced at Alexx's house for a sleep-over.

Calleigh, dressed in navy slacks and white sweater, following right on their heels, stopped next to Alexx. Mentally, she said goodbye to the gift from Horatio; there was too much blood to hope she could save the new top. She let one hand flutter to cover her mouth, fighting the uprising of nausea as her stomach rebelled. It was close, but Calleigh won and slid the same hand back down to lightly cover her swollen belly.

Stopping just between the women, dressed in pajama bottoms, heavy sweater, dark red wind-breaker, and sturdy boots, Ryan looked like a mixed bag. He had obviously been pulled out of bed by the recall of all off-duty emergency personnel. The thin, brown-haired investigator turned to glance over Alexx, checking out her wispy outfit and exposed midriff. "Jeanie?"

She merely nodded and replied "we host a children's party every New Years." Without looking at her friends and co-workers, Alexx walked towards the station wagons, both of which were crumpled into the wall of the museum grounds. She saw Speed, dressed in old jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, watching as fire rescue workers used the Jaws of Life on the front wagon. Detective McGuire was a little away, photographing the same car.

Ryan glanced to his other side at the clean white sweater Calleigh sported. Without a word, he slipped out of his wind-breaker and held it out to her.

Calleigh looked at the jacket then up at the man. "Thanks, Ryan." She smiled softly and took the garment, slipping it on and zipping it over her protruding abdomen.

His glance followed her hands and he frowned. "No lifting, Calleigh."

The blonde nodded and smiled up at him again. "No lifting, Ryan." She walked briskly towards the closest vehicle, a yellow pickup truck crushed head-first into the huge purple cab of the silvery eighteen-wheeler.

Ryan silently headed for the purple compact at the rear of the massive truck, watching ambulance workers crawling in and around the two occupants inside.

Horatio didn't bother to glance up as the rest of his team arrived. He merely stood patiently waiting as the driver of the big rig gulped down water like a dehydrated man. Like those members who _had_ been on call, Horatio was dressed in his typical suit, though the redhead didn't begrudge the new arrivals their haphazard, unprofessional attire. No one had been given time to change; they had been ordered to grab their kits and report as soon as possible. More of the rescuers than CSI's were dressed for partying or sleep that cool January morning.

Finally, from his seat on the large step of his driver's side door, the trucker looked up and whispered, "I ran them over . . . I couldn't stop." He shuddered and turned to suddenly vomit up all the water he'd been gulping.

Patiently standing to one side, Horatio waited for the man to get back under control. He glanced momentarily over at Alexx, joining Speed at the front station wagon. The lead investigator hadn't yet gotten further than the truck so hadn't been able to take in the full extent of the accident scene. He had to trust his CSI's to cover it for him.

Nearby their newest CSI, Rain McGuire, took pictures as quickly as she could, trying to capture the scene before too much became altered by the rescue attempts. The red-haired woman in the neat slacks suit and CSI vest ignored questions directed at her by shouting reporters outside the crime tape. They asked how many people had died and if the trucker really was drunk when he plowed through all those cars, but the part Seminole Indian refused to be distracted or to speculate for the flock.

At the front and right side of the truck, Eric Delko, dressed in slacks and a button down shirt along with his winter jacket, moved carefully around the smashed, unrecognizable heap of metal crushed between the yellow pickup and the tail end of a dark blue station wagon, as well as under the front passenger side of the eighteen-wheeler. Anyone in that vehicle had to be dead. The Cuban-Russian American wished he could go on to a different car, but everyone had claimed a vehicle in the beginning; he couldn't ask to swap now just because he wouldn't have the hope of a survivor to settle his roiling stomach. He glanced up as Calleigh approached, heading for the front of the pickup and its lone occupant, who had not moved in the last ten minutes: the driver had been checked and left by the first ambulance crew to arrive. Delko looked back into his vehicle, something flashy red, knowing that Calleigh wouldn't have the comfort of a survivor, either, and wondering if he should warn the pregnant woman away from what promised to be a gory view: the yellow pickup had been crushed almost as much as Speed's chosen dark blue station wagon.

Speed wasn't next to his chosen car. Rather he was with Rain's choice: the lighter colored station wagon. He'd gone to check his vehicle and seen no movement or signs of life, fighting the nausea at the sight of the four victims. It had already been deserted by the first responding EMT's. Speed didn't want anyone else to handle _that_ car, but he got distracted when the little girl in the other car woke up and started screaming. Now he watched as the emergency people worked furiously to free the heavily bleeding child, talking to her encouragingly despite her once more unconscious state.

Alexx stopped beside her friend. "Hey, Baby." She watched with a grimace for the screeching, twisted-metal noise of the machine doing its job. "Someone lived through that?"

Sighing Speed nodded, his stance tense. "The girl woke up when we got here. They're hoping she's still alive in there. No movement from the woman, though." He tried to keep his voice neutral, so intent on willing the kid to life, he hadn't realized that Alexx moved from his side and onto the darker station wagon behind this one.

When Alexx reached the heavily damaged car, its front end crumpled practically into the back seat, engine bay literally folded into the laps of the front occupants, she shivered. As she reached the door of the driver's side, Alexx jumped, hearing Speed's sudden, panic-filled scream, "No, wait, Alexx!" But his warning came too late. Her flashlight shone through the shattered window and on the crumpled African-American man dressed as Dracula then bounced over the blonde woman with dark wig askew.

Her skin paled to near cream color as the African-American medical examiner stiffened, her hands convulsing involuntarily. Her knees collapsed, lifeless beneath her, and a scream of pain and horror ripped from her throat. She hit her knees on the unforgiving asphalt, but never felt the pain of impact as her vision dimmed and her blood pulsed in a raging vortex in her head.

Skidding to a drop next to Alexx, Speed enveloped her in his arms, one strong hand firmly turning her face into his shoulder as she continued to scream. She began to tremble, her cries muffled by his shoulder, and Speed started rocking her gently, making nonsensical soothing noises but refusing to lie and say everything would be fine. He knew nothing would be fine for his best friend.

The rescue workers who weren't immediately saving lives hurried over closely following the CSI's. A swarm of loud questions rang out from the blocked reporters, none of who could see what happened by the distant car. One woman reported "apparently another victim has woken up; one more survivor in this New Year's carnage." But for the most part, everyone ignored her while they tried to check on the collapsed, hysterical medical examiner.

Horatio slowed as he saw Alexx trembling against Speed, burrowing desperately into her friend. His eyes darted past the pair to the dark blue family car. A child's head lay against the bloody smashed rear window, a pirate hat crumpled against the shattered glass. Already pale skin turning nearly white, Horatio stepped purposefully forward as Speed looked up.

"No, H . . ." his voice sounded desperate but Horatio ignored the other man, lifting his flashlight to shine over the windows of the crushed vehicle. He willed himself to continue around the crumpled back of the car but was blocked by the red metal heap Delko had been investigating: it was pinned between the big rig and this station wagon. Moving in the other direction, towards the front end and the wall, Horatio again shone his light in, angling it to play over the small figure of the fairy princess in the far back seat.

A small hand convulsed, clutching at nothing, grasping at life, and Horatio shouted in stunned relief. "She's alive!" He began to crawl over the hood, ignoring any evidence he messed up, blocking thoughts of the other inhabitants of the car . . . of the lifeless boy in the back seat. "Over here!" he called as Delko and Ryan quickly followed him. "She's alive! Madison's alive!"

xxx

Continued in Chapter Two: Sorting the Pieces


	3. Sorting the Pieces

Chapter Title: Sorting the Pieces

Author: Sam

Story: Bad Decisions: 02 of 08

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 28

Setting: Saturday, January 1, 2006: Miami

xxx

Yelina Salas rounded the back end of the Mack Truck, glancing at the damaged purple compact and the trio of people aiding the two victims inside. Seeing the large group of rescuers working on the dark blue station wagon, she headed that way. She reached the back of the family car in time to see Horatio lay his hand on the window and call out, a hint of desperation in his voice, "Madison, it's Horatio. I'm here, Sweetheart."

Exhaling a soft groan, the Colombian woman sprinted towards the wreck. If Madison was in that car, HR would be too: Horatio's son had gone to a party with Suzie and Madison. Yelina slid to a stop, bumping into Ryan in her haste, but he merely grunted and caught her before she fell. Yelina could see the blood, the destruction, the limp bodies of the adults and the little boy. Her hand flew to her mouth and she couldn't hold back a sob. But for the grace of God, her son would have been with them . . . Ray junior had been running a fever so Yelina had forbidden him to attend Alexx's party. That fever may have saved her son's life. She trembled, weakly leaning into Ryan's tightening grasp at the thought of her son among those bodies. Another sob escaped as she tore her eyes from the pirate-costumed little boy.

Realizing the woman in his arms was close to collapse, Ryan pulled her from the scene, guiding her back around the foot of the truck. He pushed her firmly to the ground then, hand on the back of her head, forced her head between her knees. "Deep breaths, Detective Salas. Take deep breaths." Ryan fought his own nausea at the memory of Horatio's kids in that crumpled car. He'd never met Alexx's husband, but had to assume by her reaction that the driver was Jeffrey Woods. The woman must have been Madison's mother. He glanced back towards the car then around at the rest of the vehicles. Making a quick decision, the former patrol officer gave Yelina a firm squeeze of the arms. "We've got lives to save. Come on." Ryan tugged her to her feet and pulled her over to the purple compact close by.

The Miami detective allowed the CSI to guide her, pulling her mind back to the duty at hand. She would grieve with Horatio later.

Like Ryan, Eric backed up from the station wagon to give the rescuers room. He headed back to the rest of the vehicles, circling the big rig to take up where Horatio left off with that survivor. Pushing the image of Alexx's breakdown and Horatio's desperation to the back of his mind, Eric took a steadying breath. "You able to answer some questions?"

Looking up from his step, the trucker asked "is the lady who screamed gonna make it?" They could still hear Horatio calling encouragingly to Madison, but Alexx's screams had subsided and any sound she made was covered by the noise of rescue efforts and the Jaws of Life screeching.

Eric nodded. "She's gonna be okay," he assured the man but didn't elaborate about who the screamer was. Pulling out his pen and pad, he said "can you tell me what happened?"

Groaning, the man began to cry. "I ran them over. I killed them." Shudders wracked his body: a strong man brought to tears.

With a sigh, Eric looked down at the driver and gentled his voice. "I need you to tell me what happened. You had the widest view of the road from your truck."

As Eric questioned the Mack Truck driver, Calleigh skirted the two station wagons and joined the still steadily working Rain. The other CSI looked up, nodded once, then turned back to her photographs. Calleigh signaled Tyler, one of their techs, to come measure for them. She pulled out her sketch pad and began quickly drawing the scene, walking behind Rain, in front of Tyler as they worked. The blonde investigator kept her face turned from the desperately working rescue crews swarming the second station wagon, tuning out Horatio's voice. The larger scene degraded with each new helper, each broken window, each rescue effort. Things needed to be recorded before it was destroyed completely.

Pausing by the wall near the front of the lighter family car, Rain stretched her five foot four inch frame to see the top. With a frown, the slim woman narrowed liquid hazel eyes, studying the stones. Something felt wrong, and Rain always trusted her instincts. Her innate senses spooked some members of the lab, most notably the very superstitious Ryan, but she didn't care: her instincts served her well and she never ignored them. Now, a sense of something missing, something important, seeped over the woman, sending a shiver down her back. Her arms prickled into goose-bumps which had nothing to do with the pre-dawn cold.

"Find something, Rain?" Calleigh's voice slid into Rain's consciousness but didn't jar her into losing her concentration.

Rain nodded, red hair swinging in its ponytail. "The cars never reached this far."

Calleigh and Tyler looked back over the massive wreck and Tyler ventured "no, the station wagons are the furthest along, stopped by the wall." He, too, tried to ignored Alexx and Horatio, though he hoped by all that was holy that Madison would be rescued. He didn't know just how Horatio had wound up with a daughter out of wedlock, but Tyler also didn't care. The kid was so gentle and adorable; no one could hate her for a mistake made by her parents. Tyler turned back to Calleigh and Rain. "You find debris? Probably flung by the impact."

Slowly, Rain lifted her camera and took a picture of the top of the wall. "Not debris, Jensen. Skid marks. Something scraped this wall and fell onto the other side."

The audio-visual tech sighed. "Then even this wall couldn't contain that crash." He shook his head and began measuring the long black burnt drag mark. "Looks like our scene just got bigger."

Calleigh stepped over to sketch the marks but paused. "That mark was made by something large." She turned to call back, "Frank, we need you!" As the rugged costumed officer trotted over, Calleigh kept her further opinions to herself, but the others didn't ask for clarification.

When Frank reached the trio, he looked the wall up and down, mouth slightly open as he pondered the sight. Finally, he barked, "what you need, Calleigh?"

"I need a lift, Frank," she offered a sweet smile, her voice determinedly pleasant as she avoided glancing behind him at the mayhem.

Tyler's eyes widened as Rain threw a glare at the petite blonde woman . . . the obviously pregnant, petite blonde woman.

Fortunately, Frank Tripp wasn't stupid. 'No can do, Calleigh. You're on restricted duty. Even if I thought it was a good idea, H'll kill me if I toss you around." The six foot two inch man worried just as much as Horatio about the investigators on the team.

"Lift me," Rain ordered, her voice steady, unemotional.

Frank gave her a look of annoyance, a frown flitting over his normally severe expression. He'd been avoiding coming near her on work hours if at all possible and now she wanted him to man-handle her. _Terrific._

With a chuckle, Tyler offered, "or you can toss me up." The tech knew the large officer wouldn't take him up on the suggestion. While Tyler was taller than the woman, he wasn't tall enough to see over the wall, but that didn't mean Frank Tripp would be willing to lift him. He was rewarded by Frank's dark look and low grunt.

Dismissing Tyler's joking offer, Frank turned abruptly to Rain. He cupped his hands, lacing his fingers together as if he offered her a boost onto a tall horse. Without a word, he set his leg so she could walk up him and get into position. It was either this or grab her waist and toss. Frank waited patiently.

Rain seemed unmoved as she grabbed Frank's fringed vest and placed one foot on his hands. She stepped onto his thigh, her strong hands steadying her as she literally walked up the large man's legs. He kept steady, not actually lifting her, letting her control the movement. Once her head was above his, Frank set his back and continued to support her; she turned to look over the markings on the top of the wall.

A black skid accompanied with some crumbling rock streaks and burned debris stretched across a ten foot swath and ended at the other side. With a grunt, Rain balanced, one foot in Tripp's hands and the other on his thigh, knee leaning into his chest. Snapping a couple of photos, Rain then offered the camera downwards.

The tech leaped forward to grab the camera.

"Lifting tape, scalpel . . ." Rain listed the equipment she wanted to gather the trace from the top of the wall. She ignored the fact that Frank would have to hold her up the entire slow, delicate process. She could easily have scrambled up onto the sturdy surface, but this was more fun. She loved to needle Frank; he was so damn gruff.

Below Rain, Frank stayed as still as possible, thankful the small woman didn't weigh as much as Tyler would have. Having her stomach almost pressed against his face was uncomfortable for its own reasons, but he pushed that from his mind. It'd been too long since Melissa had left him; he'd just have to cope.

Tyler passed the requested supplies up to Rain and watched as best he could while the woman worked.

Carefully, Rain ran the blade under the black marking, lifting it up and staring at it intently. "Rubber . . ." she murmured then bagged the sample. Using tweezers, she picked up a sliver of tempered glass and followed that with a scraping of metal. Handing down the bags, Rain lifted her flashlight to shine the beam over the trail and off the edge into the trees behind.

Shock coursed through the investigator when her light glinted off something in the trees. "We have another victim!" she called, scrambling onto the wall with nimble grace. She lowered herself onto the other side and heard Frank grab Tyler and toss him at the top of the wall, the tech scrabbling to catch his self without damaging the evidence still up there.

A pair of rescuers headed off to the Museum's entrance, hoping to make their way through the trees to the newest victim.

Stepping back, Calleigh moved away from the newest rescue attempt, knowing there was still much to do.

A metallic shrieking rent the air and most people turned to witness the triumphant opening of the light blue station wagon. Amid cheers, two medics carefully began to work on the blonde girl, checking her vitals and calling back and forth.

The noise drew Alexx from her consuming horror. She lifted her face from Speed's shoulder, sobbing, trying to catch her breath. "I . . . I'm . . . o . . . kay . . . Ba . . . by," she hiccoughed. As his calloused hand ran tenderly over her trembling shoulders, Alexx grasped his upper arm and met his deep, sad brown eyes. Alexx stroked Speed's cheek. "They . . . need me."

Speed nodded and helped his friend to rise, keeping one arm protectively around her. He deliberately blocked her sight of her husband's crumpled car, turning her towards the unrecognizable twisted metal sandwiched under the front of the big rig. Speed walked Alexx to the vehicle; it would have the most severely damaged victims so she would want to start there.

Alexx took a deep, steadying breath and allowed Speed to help guide her. Once they reached the bright red mess, she hissed. "This was a convertible, Baby."

He nodded in silent agreement then offered "think anyone was thrown free?"

Taking in the horribly crushed vehicle, Alexx turned her searching, haunted brown eyes over the rest of the mayhem. "If someone was thrown, he might have actually lived." The hands on her shoulders instantly released as Speed moved away to tell rescuers to look at a distance for thrown victims, such as the one Rain had found.

Carefully moving amidst twisted metal, broken glass, and other signs of wreckage, Speed headed towards the small group at the wall. Something caught his attention and Speed turned back to Jeffrey's car, curiously squatting next to the door the still HR slumped against. He tried to ignore the limp form, already passed over as deceased by the triage EMT. Instead, Speed reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves then slid them on, keeping his eyes firmly on the dark blue door. Gingerly, he touched a finger to the door then called out, "bring me a kit!"

When one of the many rescue workers retrieved Speed's kit from where he'd left it by the other station wagon, Speed reached in and grabbed his flashlight. He shone it over the side of the car, a darker streak revealed in the intense beam. As carefully as if he performed surgery, Speed used a tiny scalpel to flake off a piece of the trace: black paint. He held the scalpel steady as he twisted to look at each of the vehicles around him: a pale blue station wagon, Jeffrey's dark blue station wagon, a yellow pick-up truck, a purple and silver eighteen-wheeler, an unrecognizable red convertible, and a purple compact. "Where's the black one?"

He looked again then slipped the paint into a bag and stood quickly. Cupping one hand around his mouth, raising his voice above the cacophony, Speed shouted "there's one missing! Look for a motorcycle!" Whatever had left that streak had been small enough to either be totally hidden under another vehicle or light enough to flip over the museum wall. Either way, they had to find it.

Horatio busily studied the door next to Madison. It had slightly popped from the force of the accident, but he hadn't been able to wrench it open when he'd first seen her movements. Unfortunately, with the little girl mainly unconscious, breaking the window in on her would probably hurt her more than help. As the other investigators shouted about finding victims and looking for motorcycles, as the nerve-wrenching screech of the Jaws of Life sounded from the other family car, H reached into his kit and pulled out a screwdriver. Fortunately, he had clung to the kit even while trying to climb to his injured niece. With speed born of familiarity, H began to pry the window away from its sealant, working steadily as he called through the cracked door, "I'm here, Madison. I'm coming for you."

The little girl gasped suddenly and her blue eyes flew open wide. She looked around, horror and confusion rising, and turned her head to try to see what was all around her. The seven year old shook pitifully. Before she could get her bearings, a concerned voice filtered through the broken door seal. "I'm here, Madison." She looked up at Horatio, relief warring with the fear.

Softly, almost silently, she called back, "Horatio . . . help."

"I'm coming, Sweetheart," he crooned as he worked. Noticing her eyes darting towards the front seat, Horatio commanded her attention with a firm "Madison, look at me."

She turned her wide blue eyes on the man who'd helped and protected her and her mother for the past three years.

Horatio smiled softly at her. "That's right, Sweetheart. Watch me. Can you see the door lock?"

Madison might have been an unusually quiet, shy little girl, but she was a clever one as well. "It doesn't unlock inside, Horatio." Her voice sounded tiny and shaky but certain.

The red-haired man nodded. "That's right. It's called a child safety lock." There was no other point to the conversation than to keep his redheaded niece's attention away from the other occupants of the car. He didn't want her to realize that she was trapped and her family had been killed. Horatio pushed the thought away, still refusing to deal with the loss of his son. Instead, he slid the screwdriver into another section of window and called, "is there a drink holder on the door, Madison?"

Puzzled, the little girl began to study the car door. She was unfamiliar with the Woods's car so it took a little time before she shook her head. "No."

"Very good," Horatio called back. The window wasn't coming loose; his tool wasn't long enough. Pushing away the frustration, Horatio glanced in the car and made a quick decision. Madison was in shock or she would have been aware of her injuries: bloody head and face, twisted arm, and untold hidden wounds. Horatio called, "Close your eyes, Sweetheart, and count to one hundred. Can you do that for me? Nice and loud."

The request puzzled Madison, but she nodded and closed her eyes, her innate trust of her uncle guiding her. "One . . . two . . ."

H closed his kit and scrambled back over the front of the crumpled car, ignoring the jagged metal tearing his suit, scratching his leg. He made it back to HR's window, took a deep breath, said a silent prayer requesting his son's forgiveness, then drew back his arm. With all his strength, the former bomb squad officer slammed his elbow into the window, shattering it and drawing a loud, terrified scream from the girl on the far side. Immediately, he began clearing away the glass, calling out, "I'm here, Madison. Keep your eyes closed. I broke the window. You don't want glass in your eyes, Sweetheart."

Horatio took in the destruction of the back seat then reached in to release his son's seatbelt. He had to move the nine year old's body before he could reach the very alive little girl. Taking a deep breath, Horatio reached in and grasped the belt release.

A soft moan issued from the boy and Horatio froze, eyes widening, skin paling further. "HR?" He slid his fingers to the boy's neck and felt nothing. Frowning, he laid his hand over the boy's chest and sobbed as a fluttering rising and falling answered him. "I need rescue! HR's alive!"

Alexx and Speed tore away from their own investigations and ran to Horatio's side, despite having to once again approach their deceased friends. Alexx slipped directly into her medical mode, calling out, "It's okay, Baby, we've got you! We're coming." As she heard Horatio calming Madison and speaking desperately to his unconscious son, Alex called out, "don't move them, Horatio! We need backboards."

Long minutes crept by: speeding up to a flash of confused noises and colors then slowing to capture the eternal memory. Reporters had stopped shouting questions as they sensed that all concentration was required for the rescue attempts. EMT's, firemen, cops, and investigators worked feverishly to pull the survivors from the two station wagons, the purple compact, and beyond the wall. An eerie silence seemed to envelope the noisy rescue, as if only the sounds of aid were permitted into the small bubble of time and space surrounded by a ribbon of yellow tape. Even the driver of the eighteen-wheeler pushed away his nausea and guilt to join in the rescue, helping pull the passenger from the purple car which had run into the back of his rig.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Three: Clinging to Hope


	4. Clinging to Hope

Chapter Title: Clinging to Hope

Author: Sam

Story: Bad Decisions: 03 of 08

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 28

xxx

Setting: Saturday, January 1, 2006: Early Morning: Miami:

As the children were placed in separate ambulances, Horatio tilted his head towards Speed. Voice soft, intense, he instructed, "Speedle, you have the scene. I am removing myself." The supervisor looked over at the medical examiner and gently added, "Alexx, can you go with HR? If he wakes up, I'd like him to be with someone familiar."

If she went with Horatio's son, she couldn't accompany her deceased husband's body. Nor would she get home to her own children anytime soon. But Alexx knew that her children, and Frank's, were in the capable hands of the Delko sisters, who had stayed behind when Alexx and Frank had been called to this horrible scene. Accompanying HR would also free Horatio to go with the still very much awake, and terrified, Madison . . . who had lost her mother that night. With a slow nod, Alexx said, "of course, Horatio."

She stepped closer to HR's ambulance, her eyes briefly flickering over the bloody costumed boy. Horatio's thankful smile sent a warmth through her; she sent a wavery smile back at her long-time friend.

A warm hand slipped to Alexx's arm, and she turned in surprise then relaxed and shot Speed a thankful smile. He helped her into the ambulance then turned and called gruffly, "you take care, HR."

Backing up, Speed watched as first HR's ambulance then Madison's left the scene. With a sigh, he looked over to where the couple from the purple compact where being settled into two more ambulances. Delko and Salas seemed to have that under control, though Eric apparently argued with the truck driver, gesturing towards a fifth ambulance. Letting the other investigator handle the trucker, Speed turned towards the search and rescue efforts on the other side of the wall.

Calleigh walked beside another stretcher, the small figure of a dark-haired child in an oversized leather jacket lying on the ambulance gurney.

Speed frowned. Another child meant another driver. He quickly picked his way to the wall and looked over it at the searchers. Spotting the redheaded investigator, Speed called out, "Rain, have you found anyone else?"

She seemed frustrated, whipping her head around to look at him, hair swinging with her movement. "No. Tyler thinks he came from that convertible, but I think there's a motorcycle out here . . ." she cut herself off and turned, lifting her flashlight. Shining it at the trees, she hissed then trotted over there, kit clasped in her free hand.

Speed could see what drew her attention: broken branches, torn grass, all the signs of something large, heavy, and fast passing through. Turning back to the massive accident scene, Speed left Rain to her work. He didn't know her very well; she'd been hired after his shooting just as Ryan had. He did trust her work, however. Horatio tended to pick good investigators.

The assistant supervisor lifted his camera, frowning as he moved to the now deserted light blue station wagon just in front of the Woods' car. He snapped a pair of pictures then reached into his kit to take samples of the black paint streak he found. Bagging the sample, he looked back towards the darker station wagon, the convertible, the eighteen-wheeler, and finally the purple compact. Frown deepening, Speed stood and followed the invisible path he perceived, photographing and sampling the black paint streak he continually found as he maneuvered through the wrecks. Looking back up the length of the accident scene towards the damaged wall, Speed watched as Tyler ran towards Rain, carrying her camera. Something didn't sit right.

"Hey, Tim, notice something?"

Jumping at the soft sound of Calleigh's voice, the six foot man looked down at the five foot two inch woman who had stopped next to him unheeded. Looking back along the damage path, shining his flashlight along the black streaking, he said, "that's too much for one motorcycle."

She followed his line of sight and flashlight beam. Thoughtfully, Calleigh took out her own flashlight and followed the path, calculating in her mind. She might have been a ballistics expert, but math was math and physics was physics. She used her knowledge of dimension and speed to figure out the probable size such a vehicle would need to create such havoc and still stay on the road long enough.

Green eyes widening, she nodded, stepping forward to check the side of the purple compact. "A motorcycle wouldn't last that long." She looked back at Speed then forward at the light blue station wagon. "This had to be a full sized car . . . maybe even a SUV or pickup."

"That's what I see," Speed murmured. "Calleigh," Speed turned intense dark brown eyes on the smaller woman. "What do you get when one vehicle manages to skid off at least five others but cannot be found with the accident?"

"You get a hit and run, Tim." Her green eyes met his.

Speed nodded and looked back over the scene. "Our accident just became a crime scene."

xxx

Setting: Saturday, January 1, 2006: Early Morning: Miami:

Yelina Salas left Eric to argue with the truck driver, moving to the sixth ambulance and the dark-haired child being slipped carefully into place. She looked around, noting that none of the investigators had moved to accompany the child, busy with their duties and the search for a larger accident site. With a decisive nod, she climbed into the ambulance. "I'm going, too." At the least the child needed processing and questioning . . . and to wake up to someone other than doctors and nurses.

The paramedic shrugged, "hold on and stay out of the way," she instructed before climbing in behind the detective.

"Wait," Ryan called breathlessly, running to catch up to Yelina before the ambulance could leave. "I've got this, Detective Salas."

She frowned but decided that he had the right. Ryan could process the child. As she climbed from the ambulance, however, Yelina grabbed the man's arm and met his hazel eyes with an intense dark look. "Be gentle with the kid, Wolfe."

Ryan nodded, a strange look crossing his face. "I will," he promised, though privately he felt the detective should know him better. He had worked patrol long enough to know how to deal with child victims of accidents. Without voicing this defense, Ryan slid into the ride-along seat, keeping out of the medic's way as the woman closed the doors and turned to work on her patient.

As the ambulance eased through the onlookers and reporters, Ryan watched as the medic worked on the kid. First she pulled out a triage pack, handing it over to Ryan. As he fumbled his tape recorder on, she added, "You come along, you work for me." Before he could interrupt, she added "I'll make sure to explain everything so you can record it for your report." The woman turned back to the child and recited "contusions and lacerations to the face, head, and neck." She began to work as best she could to stop the visible bleeding since the child's breathing appeared stable, her hands unzipping the over-large jacket as she worked.

He'd never been ride-along from an accident before. Now Ryan saw an entirely new aspect of the process. He watched the woman work efficiently, quickly, and yet still as gently as possible.

The ride ended before he was prepared and Ryan found himself jumping out of the way as several medics whisked the gurney into the emergency room and straight to x-ray. He followed glad the female responder still spoke out loud for his tape recorder. Later that recording would bolster his memory of the almost blurred sounds and sights as the child was x-rayed, stripped, and cared for.

It turned out the child was a boy of perhaps nine years old, and he never awoke during the entire process. Prompted by the need to identify the young victim, Ryan was granted permission to fingerprint the boy as well as to take hair and blood samples for DNA analysis. He also took tox screens, his OCD condition demanding absolute thoroughness even with such a young child.

Finally, Ryan was able to return to the lab with his samples, recording, and photographs. He hoped the child lived: the boy still hadn't woken even after the hours Ryan had spent with him.

xxx

Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:

The afternoon sun streamed over the figures in the hospital beds, glinting off the girl's strawberry curls and the boy's ruffled red locks. Both children slept amid blankets, tubing, and stuffed animals. Madison's broken right forearm was in a bright pink cast and immobilized against her body to aid the recently dislocated shoulder in the healing process. HR's back was stiff in a brace to add support; he hadn't broken it, but the extreme bruising he'd suffered would put the active child on an extended bed rest for several months.

A third child had been placed in the large children's hospital room. Horatio had welcomed the unknown boy, the only other surviving child from the massive accident: unfortunately, the little blonde girl had died in the emergency room. Since no one knew the dark-haired child, Horatio determined the boy would wake up to a friendly face rather than an empty hospital room.

And so he sat directly across from the unknown victim's bed. His chair, between his son's and his niece's beds, was one of the standard uncomfortable fare provided in general public settings, but Horatio barely noticed. Instead, he concentrated on a report brought to him by the lab tech Sam Belmontes.

Softly, Horatio's voice broke the sickroom stillness. "No trace of drugs or alcohol." He lifted his eyes to meet those of the dark-eyed blond man. "The driver of the eighteen-wheeler was clean."

Sam nodded and gestured towards the sheaf of papers Horatio held. "I've coded each person based on vehicle and position inside the vehicle as best as we can determine so far. Tyler's working with reconstruction to rework the scene on the screen."

"And a motorcycle was found just beyond the tree line on museum grounds," Horatio continued, nodding. He skimmed the report then looked again at Sam. "Why are you telling me this, Sam? Speedle's in charge of this case." With a slight nod to the little girl beside him Horatio added "my children are involved, so I'm emotionally compromised. I'm not working the case."

"Yes," Sam stated in his lightly accented baritone, "but Speed thought you might want to know. He said that based on the preliminary testing, there's another vehicle out there involved in the crash."

Horatio nodded and handed back the papers. He paused, as if thinking about what he would say, then simply said, "thank you, Sam."

The technician nodded and turned to leave, stepping past Yelina Salas as she entered the room.

The Colombian woman looked at her brother-in-law as he intensely watched the little girl who slept on his left side. His hand rested lightly on the bandage over his sliced left thigh, an injury acquired while trying to save the children. As well, his right arm was in a sling, the severely bruised elbow bound tightly. Offering a soft smile, Yelina walked over to the tired looking redhead.

"Hey," she said, softly. "I dropped Alexx at home." When Horatio turned weary blue eyes up to her, she added, "RJ's at her place, too. His fever's gone completely."

"And _that_ is good news," Horatio smiled gently at his little brother's widow. He never questioned his nephew's change of nickname; the boy had opted to change to his initials shortly after his kidnapping last May. Yelina had claimed it was a form of hero worship for the uncle who'd saved him. Horatio hadn't argued.

Yelina's sigh drew Horatio's attention and he tilted his head slightly, eyes questioning. She nodded, "right." It was a habit she had when making a difficult decision. Patience paid off as the woman stepped next to the man and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Horatio, I'm sorry about Suzie."

That was not what he'd expected to hear. Smile slipping to a soft frown, Horatio nodded. "Thank you."

His sister-in-law nodded and turned to look over the pretty little girl. "I know you two weren't blatant about your relationship, but I had hoped you'd found someone." She offered him a hopeful smile at odds with the pain in her dark eyes.

"Yelina," Horatio's voice firmed, "I told you Suzie's case was complicated."

"And I meant it, Horatio, when I said I'm not judging you."

The redhead sat straighter in his chair, his blue eyes steady. "Suzie was a friend, nothing more."

"Right," Yelina frowned at him, disbelief and disappointment radiating from her. "Look, Horatio, you're an adult. You find love where you can."

Horatio shook his head. "Yelina," he paused as she met his eyes then added "Madison is not my daughter."

"Oh, right," Yelina's attitude switched to anger. "She looks just like you."

"Or your cousin Johnny Kelly," a woman interrupted from the doorway.

Both siblings-in-law turned to the door, Horatio easing out of his chair at the sight of the raven-haired woman in the dress suit standing there, grey eyes roving the room in disapproval. Suddenly, the woman spotted the bruised and bandaged form of HR and she let out an enraged groan.

"I can't believe how irresponsible you are, 'Ratio!" his ex-wife, Peg, hissed as she moved to the far side of HR's bed. "Really, letting him go to a party with goodness knows who."

"Margaret," Horatio sounded tired, "he went to Alexx's New Year's party. Since I was on duty, Suzie offered to take him."

"A drug informant, if my sources are still true." Peg glared at the crime lab supervisor, ignoring Detective Salas in favor of displaying her anger. "Wise choice the day before a custody hearing, which, by the way, you missed," sarcasm rang through Peg's voice.

Horatio closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. "I was detained."

Peg shook her head, reaching out to tenderly stroke a finger down her son's cheek. "Really, 'Ratio, why I ever married you I have no idea. I should have married Johnny."

The irrational statement was too tempting. Horatio said "he married Laurie. Besides, Peg, I recall you divorced me because I'm a cop."

She shot him an annoyed look and shrugged one shoulder. "Whatever, 'Ratio. Where's the woman who tried to kill my son?"

"We don't know who's at fault, Margaret," Horatio snapped in anger. He shot a look at his niece to check her awareness then added "and Suzie didn't make it."

Peg pursed her lips and turned to look at the little girl then at her son. "So, I suppose you'll be taking in your daughter now." She looked at Horatio. "I know she's not Johnny's no matter how much you two look alike. Johnny's still in New York."

"Yes, I'll be petitioning for full custody of Madison, Peg." Horatio looked towards the window, his eyes seeing something no one else could. "I'm all she has left."

xxx

Continued in Chapter Four: Family Matters


	5. Family Matters

Chapter Title: Family Matters

Author: Sam

Story: Bad Decisions: 04 of 08

Series: _SpeedBurn_: 28

Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:

xxx

Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:

The lab was busy for a Sunday, but almost everyone pulled double shifts to cover the massive amount of evidence from the seven vehicle pile-up. With the added personal offense of the deaths of Jeffrey Woods and Suzie Barnum-Keaton, and the injuries to Horatio's children, no one wanted to let this case rest until they'd fully worked each fingerprint, each fiber, each drop of blood. For once, every investigator and tech worked as hard and long as the normally overworked assistant supervisor, Tim Speedle.

Speed pushed back from the reports he'd been reviewing, once again wondering why the hell he'd agreed to the promotion a month before. He'd never wanted to be in charge, but the fact that he felt he still owed the FBI Agent, Ivana Gideon, for the personal money she'd spent to keep him alive after his shooting, had made Speed feel he'd had no choice but to take the pay raise offered by the increase of responsibility. And with the addition of his fiancée and the baby . . . But the added duties kept him from working the job he truly loved: trace evidence. It had been one of the negotiation points he'd demanded: as long as he wasn't covering for Horatio specifically, he could work his trace and do his added paperwork after regular lab hours.

Stretching, Speed stood and strode across Horatio's office to the bullet-proof plexi-shield wall overlooking the lab floor. He watched the controlled chaos of the labs below: the technicians processing their evidence, the staff weaving among the various labs to share information and advice, and the detectives gathering reports for their numerous active cases. As soon as Horatio returned to the lab Speed would gladly go back to his trace, but for now he was acting supervisor. Horatio had not only removed himself from the multiple-vehicle accident case but had taken personal leave to be with HR and Madison.

The sight of Calleigh walking slowly up the stairs towards the office drew Speed back to the demands of the present. He opened the door, meeting her with a tired nod but no smile. Speed rarely smiled on duty. "What do you have, Calleigh?" He led her into Horatio's office.

"We found the driver of the motorcycle. He didn't make it; the medical examiner says he bled out." She sighed as she handed over the report.

Turning to look Calleigh over, Speed nodded and gestured towards Horatio's desk chair. "Sit down," he gruffly ordered. Flipping open the file, Speed stood by the desk as Calleigh gracefully sank onto the edge of the chair. "The guy was wearing a helmet but the kid wasn't." His frown deepened. "And he's Asian-American, but the kid's Caucasian." He looked up. "DNA?"

She smiled up at her friend. "Already being run . . . on both of them." Her smile slipped as she gestured towards the report in Speed's hands. "The driver was clean, but the kid," she trailed off as Speed flipped to the appropriate page.

"The kid had alcohol and diphenhydramine in his system." He looked up. "Could be cough medicine."

"I thought of that, Tim." Calleigh leaned forward to run a finger over the drug analysis information. "Too much alcohol to diphenhydramine content. That much alcohol . . ."

"Usually comes from drinking, not medicine," Speed finished, a sudden blaze of anger darkening his eyes to almost black. "The driver was clean but the kid was drugged. Sounds like a possible kidnapping."

Calleigh sighed and nodded, easing back to her feet. "That's what I thought. I have DNA running a wide search just in case."

Nodding, handing back the report, Speed thought over the situation. Finally, he said "check with child services and have a missing persons check done for the boy. He may have been reported." Speed looked at Calleigh who hesitated so he asked, "what?"

She smiled at him, her eyes tired. "Welcome home, Speedle."

Speed couldn't hold back the rough laugh. "You say that practically every time you see me, Calleigh." He offered a genuine smile to the pretty ballistics expert. "Thanks. I'm glad to be home."

As the petite blonde left the office, Speed sank into the office chair, pulling the rest of the case reports towards him. That night he planned to reach out to his godson, Riley Temple's kid, but for now he had work to do.

xxx

Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:

Calleigh reached the bottom of the steps and paused, taking a deep breath. She looked at the report in her hands then back up at Horatio's office where the dark-haired figure of Speed sat going over the various active lab cases. Slowly, the petite blonde walked to the elevator and pushed the button for ballistics.

She had no active ballistics cases but that lab was her domain. She felt more comfortable there than anywhere else in the entire building. Despite the suicide of John Hagen last May, Calleigh still felt as if the ballistics lab was her _safe zone_.

When the elevator door whooshed open, she strode quickly down the hall and into the sound-proofed ballistics range. No one was there; she had the place to herself. The thought soothed her. She sank onto a chair at the log-in desk and dropped the report onto the metal surface then covered her face with trembling hands.

It was always hardest when a kid was killed. To know that someone was still out there: a hit and run possibly toked up on alcohol, was nauseating. With the additional evidence of the unknown boy's drugged state, Calleigh found it especially hard to retain her normally positive attitude.

The native Louisianan felt an overwhelming need to connect with family especially Renee, the daughter her brother was raising for her. The girl had been a product of Calleigh's brief relationship with another officer named Jake Berkley. As Calleigh had been so busy with work and trying to deal with the loss of Jake, her brother Jebediah had fortunately agreed to take in the infant. By the time Calleigh had regained enough personal control to reclaim her daughter Renee had become too attached to her uncle, so Calleigh had made the difficult choice of leaving the girl in Louisiana with Jeb. She maintained regular contact with Renee and visited when possible.

Now, however, Calleigh really needed to hear her daughter's voice . . . a child's death always made the ballistics expert feel that way. Perhaps she could tell Renee about the coming baby. She wondered how her teenaged daughter would take the news.

Calleigh pulled out her cell phone and began to dial the familiar number.

xxx

Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:

Ryan hung up his phone and slid it into the pocket of his lab coat. He ran a hand over his face. It had been good to hear his niece, Jenny's, voice but now he had to get back to work analyzing the black paint trace Speed had collected.

Speed had been right: it didn't match the paint on the motorcycle. There was an eighth vehicle out there. With the deaths of seven victims already, if the boy from the motorcycle lived, the hit and run was looking at seven possible charges of vehicular manslaughter and six counts of aggravated assault with a motor vehicle: provided they could prove the mega-accident had been his fault, and provided they could catch the guy. This was Ryan's specialty after so many years in patrol. He was going to follow the evidence to the very end.

Glancing towards Horatio's office, Ryan frowned. It was odd seeing Tim Speedle up there. _Hell, it's odd he's even alive!_ He certainly deserved his promotion; any reopened cases Speed had originally worked on had not produced errors on the part of the trace expert: Ryan had verified with his own analysis of the evidence and procedures. Ryan looked forward to working further with the lauded investigator . . . despite the man's snarky attitude and off-putting demeanor.

Another frown flitted over Ryan's face and he pulled on fresh gloves, bending once more over the microscope, triple-checking his own findings. There was no way he wanted Speed to find any reason to criticize any of Ryan's work. Now that Speed had returned, Ryan wanted no reason for Horatio to suddenly decide to send the replacement back to patrol.

At a beeping noise from the machines lined up on one side of the trace lab, Ryan straightened, pushing away from his microscope and his worrying thoughts. Glancing over the read-out of the paint analysis, the thin brunet smiled grimly. Turning, he began inputting information into the vehicle paint match program.

Soon they'd know what vehicle had run roughshod through their accident scene.

xxx

Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:

"How's Elizabieta?" Eric asked softly into his cell phone, aware that there were a dozen busy people trying to work nearby.

"She's fine, Eric."

Carmen's gentle response soothed the worried underwater retrieval expert. Her next words made him uncomfortable once more.

"What's happened, Eric? Tell me, _bratishka_."

He refused to go into the horrors of his job with any of his family especially Carmen. Instead, he merely said, "bad day. See you at dinner, _s__tarshaya sestra_." Before she could protest, he hung up feeling as morose as he had before calling her. With a sigh, he turned to watch Tyler once more.

The audio-visual tech was meticulously reconstructing the accident in the computer, trying to match the measurements, death rate, and other information the team had gathered. The reconstruction would be needed for court.

"So, the convertible was passing the compact when the big rig ran it over, right?" Tyler asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He was waiting for the video surveillance from the museum to see if the mystery black vehicle was caught on camera passing the entrance.

Eric nodded, "Yeah. But once we got the trucker calmed down he remembered the convertible being pushed into him."

Tyler added the new references and they watched, once again, the horrific rendition of a three car accident. Eventually the program would encompass all eight vehicles, but it would take hours of programming and re-watching the impacts over and over again. Eric felt sick just thinking about the unappealing work ahead.

Like everyone else in the lab, he waited to hear if the little boy from the motorcycle would make it. The child had only visible bruising and cuts, but the internal exams with x-ray, MRI, and CAT scans were still pending. Horatio was supposed to call with any news as soon as they received it; he was keeping the child in the same room with his family, since no one yet knew who the boy belonged to.

xxx

Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:

Horatio watched as the child services representative walked from the hospital room. He stopped smiling and turned to look over the children ensconced in three of the four beds. The news was mixed: child services would check into the boy's identification as soon as they could figure out who he was, which was very good news.

On the other hand, Horatio had to go through family court to get custody of his niece, Madison. With the added custody battle for HR, Horatio could easily lose the little girl to the system if he couldn't prove he was the best choice. He had to display for the court his dedication and ability as well as refute any new charges Peg might raise against him since the accident last night.

With a soft sigh, Horatio turned to run his tired, worried blue gaze over his nine year old son. HR slept stiffly in the back brace. His other injuries, lacerations and contusions, were miraculously minor. The boy would recover completely by the end of the school year, but he'd need a tutor since he couldn't go to the public school in his condition.

Gently, Horatio brushed his son's hair from his face and offered the rousing child a soft smile. "Hey, HR. Welcome back."

"Dad?" HR sounded confused and tired, but the pain medication shielded the child from the worst of his back strain.

"Right here," Horatio confirmed and stroked the boy's hair again.

A sound from the door drew the attention of both father and son, and both looked expectantly at the new arrival.

A man about six feet four inches dressed in faded military fatigues stood there. His platinum blond hair was cut military short and his vivid blue eyes took in the room's occupants with a combination of weariness and worry. Meeting Horatio's equally exhausted expression the man nodded and strode quickly into the room. "Horatio," he said, offering a strong, well-tanned hand to his friend.

"Sergei Gideon, thank you for coming," Horatio responded, shaking the ex-Marine's hand.

They had met last May when Horatio's nephew had been kidnapped and Ray, the boy's father, had been killed after coming out of deep cover. Sergei had helped rescue RJ, taking a bullet for the boy. Horatio had moved the US Marshal into his own home, where the tall blond had reciprocated by watching young HR and occasionally Madison. The lab staff respected and liked Sergei, the children adored him, and Eric Delko's sister, Marisol, was dating him, long-distance.

When the initial excitement from the accident died down, Horatio insisted on calling his recent house guest; Sergei would never have forgiven him for keeping it from him.

"Sergei?" Madison's pained voice wafted over from her window-side bed. The seven year old girl lay watching the door, her arm in a bright pink cast, the bruising on her face expanding from forehead down the right side to her chin.

The tall US Marshal dropped Horatio's hand and strode quickly to the little girl's side, sinking onto his knees by her bed. He gently laid a large strong hand over her tiny one. "Hey, Sweetheart. How's my girl?"

She smiled painfully at him and began to talk quietly with the man as Horatio turned back to his son.

HR smiled up at his father. "I'm glad Sergei came."

"So am I," Horatio sank onto his hard chair.

The boy lowered his voice, causing Horatio to lean in to hear him. "Are you adopting Madison now, Dad?"

Horatio nodded. "Yes," his voice was equally quiet, "yes, I am."

"Mom's not gonna like that." HR got right to the point. For a child of fanciful tales and vivid imagination, he cut to the heart of any important matter. "She wants me back and thinks Madison's bad."

The redheaded investigator sighed and placed a gentle hand on his son's hand. "Your mother gave you to me and I don't plan to give you back unless you want me to." At HR's slight head shake, Horatio continued, "and Madison is not bad. She's a sweet little girl who needs to be with her family."

"Us," HR added. He carefully turned his neck to watch Madison and Sergei talking. "Will the courts let you have her?"

"That depends," Horatio said, drawing a frown from his son. "For one, I have to prove I'm related to her."

HR sighed, looking troubled. "Oh. Does the fact that I donated blood marrow to her help prove our relationship?"

'_Clever boy,'_ Horatio thought, smiling. "Yes, that helps a great deal. So does a DNA match, which we have on record." The only trouble was, he would have to expose Madison's true relationship to him and that would hurt Ray's widow, Yelina.

The end point came down to whether Horatio wanted to spare Yelina Ray's infidelity or lose his best claim on his orphaned niece. Horatio sighed again, gently caressing his son's hand as the pair looked at the quietly chatting little girl.

xxx

Continued in Chapter Five: Twisted Trace

xxx

This is being attached to all first chapters of my _CSI: Miami_ stories as it is imperative for the timeline!

On someone's recommendation I just watched Season 8, Episode 1 of _CSI: Miami_. I was horrified to see the discrepancies as compared to the original season and character biographies released in 2002. These discrepancies mainly revolve around Speed and when everyone came to or left the CSI lab. Thus, here is the original timeline as released in 2002 between Season 1, the biographies by the network, and Rory Cochrane's personal website, incorporating what I can of Season 8:

1991: Speed's best friend from high school (unnamed) receives a severe spinal injury during the senior class trip. Speed goes to medical college as a result (to try to heal him).

1993: Speed's best friend dies in surgery while Speed is in the second year of medical college with a double major (meaning four years of classes in two years). Speed drops out and disappears right after the funeral. He is not seen or found for a year.

1994: Speed turns up in Miami, living with the uncle of his deceased best friend. The uncle is a CSI from Miami's crime lab, under the supervision of Megan (Donner – no mention if she is actually married at this time). While bored, Speed visits the crime lab with his host and falls in love with the work. He applies for a job. Megan tells him to finish college and she'll hire him as a tech. He goes back to college.

1995: Speed graduates with a double major (meaning he finished four years of college in one year). He applies and is hired. In six months (supposed to be the quickest of any tech in Miami), he is made an investigator. This is without becoming a police officer at all. Horatio leaves the bomb squad and transfers to the Crime Lab. He is working under Megan. Rick Stetler also joins the crime lab (from homicide?). Both are trained by Speed as CSI's.

*September 1996: (**My additions**) Megan takes a temporary academy teaching position, leaving the Lab in the hands of her team: Speed, Horatio, Stetler, and various non-science related officers like John Sullivan. Speed goes to the St. Petersburg Police Academy (6 months, then a 6 month stint in St. Petersburg on the beat for experience). Shortly after these two leave, Jessie Cordoza arrives for a one year assignment before going to California.

September 1997: Flashbacks of "Out of Time" (_CSI: Miami_, Season 8, Episode 1) occur.

*September 1997: (**My additions**) Calleigh transfers from Louisiana to cover for Cordoza while they find a replacement. Within a few months, she is replaced so goes back to Louisiana. Speed returns from St. Petersburg.

*October 1997: (**My additions**): Megan returns from teaching and takes over the lab supervision once more.

2002: David Caruso states he is pleased that the CSI characters 'working for him' are all police officers (thus my addition of when Speed may have gone to the academy).

March 2002: Megan's husband Shawn Donner is killed in the line of duty. Megan is offered two weeks bereavement leave. She takes six months instead. The supervisor job opens, but Speed refuses to apply for it, content at his own rank. Horatio and Rick compete for the job and Horatio gets it. Rick transfers from the lab to IAB in order to get a promotion, but remains angry and resentful of Horatio. Horatio immediately hires Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne, handpicked CSI's. (Delko nearly made it to the Olympics as a swimmer and Calleigh was known as Bullet Girl in Louisiana at the time.)

May 9, 2002: "Cross Jurisdictions" (_CSI: Miami_ and _CSI_ crossover episode).

September 23, 2002: "Golden Parachute" (_CSI: Miami_ pilot episode). Megan returns to the team as assistant supervisor. Eric expresses his anger for her attitude and Speed explains the loss of Megan's husband. (This denotes Eric did not know Megan or her history.) Also note that Megan relies heavily on Speed out of habit and unfamiliarity with Delko and Calleigh. She gives Speed double and triple amounts of work, which Horatio at times counters.

September 19, 2004: "Lost Son" (CSI: Miami episode). Speed is given full honors during the funeral, including an American flag and gun salute (denoting he is a cop).

Megan is only present for the first ten episodes. She leaves the series by the 11th episode. The character is said to have retired due to Post Traumatic Stress related to her husband's death. The actress is said to have left due to professional differences with David Caruso. My opinion differs about this for the following reason:

Speed and Megan are said to be very close friends, however the only voluntary contact Speed makes with her is during "Golden Parachute" when he sympathizes with her loss of Shawn. After that, he will not come physically close to her: stepping away if she approaches, hugging himself in an unconscious self-protective gesture, and moving so that at least one person or piece of equipment is between them whenever he is able. I think the professional differences were between _Rory Cochrane_ and Kim Delaney.

Season 8, Episode 1 discrepancies: 1997: Calleigh transfers to Miami Crime Lab, which is "a closet". Horatio encourages Eric to become a cop then join the lab. Jesse Cordoza recommends "Speedle, a great guy up in St. Pete's (St. Petersburg, Florida, implying Speed is a cop.)". Horatio is also made head of the new crime lab, and Megan is mentioned as being in the field, but implied to be working for Horatio.

As you can see, these are major changes. My stories, especially in the _SpeedBurn_ timeline are based on the original information released and not on the discrepancies in Season 8, though I have made adjustments which incorporate almost all Season 8 changes. Merrianna follows my lead on this, as well.

Thank you,

Sam


End file.
